Inell's Fanfiction Archive

“You silly foolish little boy!”


Draco cringed when Mother spoke. She had picked him up from the train station only a few hours before, quickly learning about his failed revenge against Potter as well as the state in which he, Greg, and Vince made the journey home from Hogsmeade before the numerous hexes wore off. He had known she was angry from the cold glint in her eyes where usually there was joy at having him home. He had also noticed the way her lips had pressed together in a tight scowl the entire journey home. During the trip, she had not said a word, causing the time to see four times as long and making him wish they’d simply used a port key instead of the carriage.


He turned to look at her, a flash of fear entering his pale gray eyes. He had only seen Mother angry two times in his sixteen years and both times Father had been the recipient of her rage. Now, however, Father was in Azkaban and he was left to face her wrath alone. “I am sorry, Mother.”


“Sorry?” she repeated shrilly, her normal coolness dissipating quickly as she ushered him into her private rooms for the discussion regarding his behavior this last term.


“Mother, really, quit being so dramatic,” he said with his most charming smile. The smile faded quickly when she slapped him. Looking back at her, his eyes were wide as he caressed his cheek.


“Your Father is in Azkaban, Draco. We are doing everything within our power to gain his release. How do you think it appears to those incompetent fools at the Ministry when they hear you are attacking their precious Potter? Of all the childish, ridiculous things to do at this stressing time! Do you not want your Father to be released? Do you feel that you are man enough to fulfill his responsibilities?”


“No, Mother. I am truly sorry about this afternoon. I did not think about anything except besting that bastard Potter,” Draco apologized profusely, feeling horrible that his rash actions might affect Father’s release from prison.


“Do not use such language around me, boy!” Narcissa said sharply, her eyes narrowing as she looked at him. “Remove your robe.”


“Mother?”


“Do as I say,” she said lowly, her presence threatening even as she presented the image of aloofness.


Draco slowly removed his robe, his eyes curious and worried. Laying it across the nearby chair, he was surprised when her hand suddenly gripped his neck.


“You think you are a man, do you not?” she asked coldly. “You are nothing more than a silly child.”


“I am sixteen years old!” he said swiftly, facing her with his head held high. He was taller than her now, his build slender but he could easily overpower her fragile frame.


Narcissa did not reply. Instead, she pushed him against her bed. Before he had a chance to right himself, she was unfastening his trousers. There was a sinister smile on her face that alerted him to the knowledge that she was dangerous, his breathing becoming ragged as he tried to figure out what she was doing and how to escape. He whimpered when she pushed his trousers and boxers down, leaving his flaccid cock bare, resting against his upper thigh.


“Mother, please. I am so sorry about Potter. I shall never provoke him again. Just, please, let me go.”


“Having hair here,” her hand suddenly gripped the base of his shaft, fingers tangling in blond curls, “does not make you a man, Draco. Accio razor.”


“Razor?” he whispered fearfully, images in his mind of her cutting away his cock or carving him up for trying to hex Potter. Her fingernails were long and pointed, digging into the sensitive flesh around his shaft as she held him limply in her hand. He watched as a piece of metal flew into her hand. It was Father’s straight razor. He recognized it instantly, recalling memories of his childhood, watching Father shave in the mornings, wondering when he would be old enough to shave. Even at sixteen, he had not yet had the need. The edge was sharp, the blade gleaming in the candlelight as she moved it between his legs. “Please no.”


“Do stop your sniveling, Draco. Your Father and I have spoiled you too much,” Narcissa said as she began to move the razor against his groin. Inhaling sharply when he felt the blade touch his skin, he watched with horror as she began to shave away the pale blond curls that surrounded his cock. “You are a silly little boy and now you shall remember that every time you pull down your trousers.”


“Mother, please,” he whined, biting his lip when her hand tightened around his cock. He stared at the ceiling as she ignored him, humming a song that Father often played on the piano during their anniversary. She was nutters. That was the only explanation he could come up with as she held his shaft in her hand and shaved his privates. She had always doted on him, calling him her special boy. He could not believe that she was subjecting him to this horrid torment, the scrape of the razor against his skin confirming that this was not a nightmare.


His beautiful blond curls were being removed, leaving him bare and smooth like a child. He had been ever so proud when he began getting hair down there, far sooner than the other boys in his dorm. If it was not grown back by school, he would refuse to attend. He was not going to allow Zabini and Nott to see him bare as a baby.


After what seemed like hours of silent fear, she moved her fingers over his groin. “All done,” she declared with a pleased smile.


Draco flinched when her fingernails brushed against his scrotum, the razor in her hand digging into his skin. “Oh fuck,” he exclaimed in pain as he felt blood begin to flow. Looking down with scared eyes, he saw her staring at the flowing blood. “It hurts.”


She looked up at his whine, the look in her eyes reminding him of Aunt Bellatrix. He felt so small and helpless, despite knowing he could overpower her and run. She was his mother, though. He could never hurt her. He loved her.


“What did I tell you about using such language, Draco?” She sat beside him, pulling him across her lap. He resisted, making it more difficult for her to treat him like some silly child. He yelped when her hand hit his bum hard, not able to remember the last time he had received a spanking. It was always Father who spanked him and never bare arsed like this. “Filthy mouthed little boy.”


Draco wiggled in her lap, her hand against his back holding him down. His cock was rubbing against her leg, the velvet of her robe caressing his length as he tried to move away from her slaps. He groaned softly as the material began to send varying sensations throughout his body. She kept spanking him, sometimes a hard slap, the next time a light one. He knew his bum must be pink by now, his pale skin bruising so easily. When he felt his cock stirring, he closed his eyes and thought of many things.


He thought of Filch naked, of McGonagall naked, of McGonagall and Filch naked together. The soft material caressing his shaft kept having the vision change to Pansy naked. To Pansy and Granger naked together. To him wanking as he watched Pansy fuck the little Mudblood senseless. Moaning, he added a naked dancing Snape and Dumbledore to the orgy of old wizards but it still did no good. He was hard, his cock starting to leak pre-cum, and the heat in his bum was only adding to his arousal. If Mother didn’t stop soon, he was going to embarrass himself.


“You wicked little boy,” Narcissa said as he moved his erection against her leg. He could feel her eyes looking at the back of his head, seeing the pale white hair so like his father’s, falling just past his shoulders now. Her hand traced the contours of his bum but instead of slapping him again, her finger moved along the crack of his arse. Draco gasped when he felt her thumb brush against his pucker.


His hands gripped the bed cover tightly as she slid her thumb into his arse. He had touched himself there many times since he turned thirteen and realized that it was fun to play with himself and that it felt really good to put his fingers in his arse. He had had Zabini’s fingers there numerous times over the last year, the two discovering that it was even more fun to wank with a friend than to wank alone. He had never once imagined Mother pressing her fingers into him so intimately. She should not be doing this, he knew, and he certainly should not be enjoying it.


He was sixteen, though, and thought about sex a majority of his waking hours. There were no girls he fancied enough to let touch him like this. Well, there was Pansy but he wasn’t sure he wanted to shag her and there was Granger but he knew he just wanted to fuck her, hard and rough until she was begging him. For what, he had no idea. Just to hear her begging was enough of a fantasy to make him come most nights. Even more so when Pansy joined the image because he knew his old friend fancied girls more than blokes and the two of them could have such fun with that little Mudblood whore. While thinking of that scenario yet again, he began to move back against Mother’s thumb, not even noticing when she added a finger to his dry passage. It hurt but it felt so good.


Narcissa removed her hand, shock entering her eyes as she seemed to realize what she was doing. Draco continued to move slightly, letting his cock thrust against the velvet of her robes, his arse cheeks clenching with each movement forward. He wanted to come. God, did he want to come. He could feel his sac, thick and heavy, the feel of the material unbelievable against his shaved groin and hard shaft. He offered no protest as Mother gently moved him off her lap to lay against the bed.


“Show me how you touch yourself, my sweet boy,” she whispered as her eyes moved over his beautiful form. He looked like Father, he knew, having seen the photos of the older wizard at the same age. He was taller, inheriting the Black family’s height and not as muscular, taking after Mother’s more slender build, but he had Father‘s facial structure, his eyes, his lips, his hair, even his nose. When she looked at him, did she see Father? Draco knew it was terribly wrong to do this, knew it was not proper and that others would be disgusted, but he loved Mother and wanted so desperately to please her, to make her proud.


Without hesitation, he licked his palm, getting it wet for what was about to occur. He then moved his hand across his chest, his thumb brushing against his hard nipples before drifting lower. It was strange to not feel the nest of wiry curls, instead his fingertips gliding over smooth skin before wrapping around his cock. He looked at a point behind Mother, unable to look at her without his cock twitching and threatening to grow flaccid once again. His strokes were firm and practiced, knowing exactly how he enjoyed it from years of practice. Eyes closing slightly, he forgot about Mother, forgot about being punished, forgot about Potter, forgot about everything except the feel of his cock and the pleasure building within.


His free hand moved beneath his bent leg, his fingers slick with saliva as he began to penetrate his arse. Curling them, twisting them, his body began to move back and forth between his hands. Sweat dripped down his forehead, his hair clinging to his face, his pale body glistening, flushed with desire. Soon, he was arching up, his seed spilling onto his hand and stomach, a low groan escaping his full lips as he came hard. His fingers slipped out of his arse and he inhaled deeply several times, trying to get his breathing under control.


When he felt a hand touch his, his eyes opened once again. Looking down, he saw Mother moving between his legs, her robes discarded, leaving her in a pretty frock that made her look even more lovely. Her finger touched the cut above his cock, still tender and red, before her eyes caught his. She smiled, looking more like Mother than she had before. “My special boy is growing up,” she said wistfully. “I apologize for cutting you, Draco.” Before he could tell her it was okay, she was leaning over, her hair brushing against his upper thighs. Her breath was warm against his spent cock as she whispered, “Let Mummy kiss it all better.”


The End.